


Only the Beginning

by taylorgibbs



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorgibbs/pseuds/taylorgibbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs and Tony first meet in an explosive encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Baltimore  
> Author Note: Thanks to Tejas and Hilde for the beta  
> I wanted to write a pre-episode tag for Baltimore, given the slashy content of the preview. I've taken a few liberties with the little we see of the preview, but I hope you'll indulge me. The lyric is from Chicago's song Beginnings.

~*~  
Only the beginning of what I want to feel forever.  
Only the beginning. Only just the start.  
~*~  
Tony hated days like this—it was damp, cold, and the streets of Baltimore were teeming with trouble. He and Danny had been trying to break a prostitution ring for weeks now, and they’d inserted themselves as residents—brothers—who worked in this neighborhood. They hadn’t come close to breaking the case yet and their captain was breathing down their necks. Something had to give—and soon—or they’d be shuffled off to another case. They were on their dinner break now, prowling the streets like a lot of other guys in their late twenties looking to hang out, looking for trouble to find them.

He couldn’t put his finger on what trouble was waiting for him, but he knew that there would be something today—something big. Even though his colleagues and even his partner laughed at him, he had a certain sense about this, a gut feeling. And for a guy who had cut his teeth on cop shows and movies—Lethal Weapon and Columbo were his favorites—Tony knew to trust the gut. The gut was what had saved a lot of his fictional heroes and the gut had saved his ass more than once.

He eyed a man dressed in dark clothing, a hat pulled low on his head. Tony had seen him a few times before and there was something about the guy that bothered him. He didn’t blend in with the residents of this area. The man’s posture was a little too good, his bearing a little too strong and proud for a guy who hung out in this neighborhood. He had something vaguely military about him, something Tony had seen from his teachers at Rhode Island Military Academy. The guy didn’t look like a down on his luck vet, or even someone who’d been drummed out of the military because he liked drinking, or drugging, or even women too much. He was too precise in his movements, too steady.

Strangers in this area were noted, and it was interesting that this guy had been accepted with ease. Tony had seen him with some other men, drinking out of bottles wrapped in paper bags some nights. Though the guy tried to blend in and the differences were subtle, they were apparent to Tony. This guy was in a neighborhood he didn’t belong to for some reason, and Tony had a feeling he was up to no good. This guy was someone he needed to keep his eye on.

He glanced over at Danny, but Price was keeping an eye on the other side of the street, looking for anyone who was intimidating the prostitutes working the corners. They were a good team, covering all sorts of ground. But right now he wished Danny had his eye on that man. Tony could have used his insight.

In that moment it took him to glance away from the guy, something happened. Tony could see a flash of something out of the corner of his eye, the man darting away with something under his arm.

“Danny!” he said, beginning to run hard. Whatever the dirtbag had done, he was Tony’s.

The guy was fast, but Tony was faster, better, younger, quicker. He closed the distance easily, the damp air brushing over his exposed skin as he chewed the space between them with ease. The guy ran across a motel parking lot and ducked into what Tony knew was a dead-end alley.

Got him!

Tony put on a burst of speed, closing the last few feet between him and the perp. As he came within grabbing range, he lunged out, tackling the guy in a move that would have made his former Buckeyes coaches proud. Dirtbag crashed to the ground with a grunt, and struggled, pinned there by Tony’s weight.

Sometimes he liked it when they struggled.

“Freeze, Dirtbag!” he growled, anger and adrenaline mixing with something else entirely. The scent of the guy rose up—a faint tang of alcohol, coffee, and something else, something that grabbed Tony by the throat—and the dick—and didn’t let go. He immediately hardened, grinding himself shallowly against the other man’s firm, muscular ass. This was dangerous—hell, this was insane—but he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was something else. Tony wasn’t particularly concerned with the reasons right now. He was rocked by the reaction, the way the man clenched his cheeks under Tony and then relaxed. The way his muscles quivered before he pressed backward in a motion that could have been involuntary, but that Tony knew in his gut was deliberate.

He huffed out a breath against the guy’s neck, biting back a groan, his lower body pressing down harder, driving the man into the concrete.

“Not goin’ anywhere,” the guy replied, a fair dose of irony in his voice.

“What the hell, DiNozzo?” Danny asked, skidding to a stop. Price was in fairly good shape, but he wasn’t a runner; he didn’t have Tony’s speed or agility.

Tony looked up at Danny, shrugging and trying to dismiss his partner’s concerned expression. He had no idea why he’d bolted after this guy, had no idea what the guy had stolen. But Tony knew he was trouble. He cuffed the man, locking the bracelets far too tight. The guy didn’t say anything, just grunted as Tony scrambled off him. Danny reached down and took one of the man’s arms, helping to haul him to his feet. His partner had questions, Tony knew, but Danny’d hold back for now. Danny trusted him. His partner read the guy his Miranda rights and frisked him while Tony fought to get his breath back, staring at the filthy ground as he panted.

Danny finished patting the dirtbag down, withdrawing a sharp utility knife and a wallet with no ID and only twenty dollars in it. No drugs, as Tony had expected, no other weapons. This was fairly tame for residents of this area. This was getting more and more interesting.

He watched Danny and angled his head. They’d been working together long enough that Danny would know if Tony felt comfortable with their perp. “Go get the car. I’m good here.” Danny gave him a searching look and Tony nodded. Their car was only a quarter mile away and the guy was cuffed. Tony could handle this just fine. And if Danny pulled up to the alley, they might be able to get the guy out of here while keeping their op uncompromised.

As soon as Danny exited the alley, Tony spun the man around, getting a good look at him. He was maybe ten, fifteen years older than Tony, probably pushing forty. Thin and wiry, but muscular and athletic. So why had he allowed himself to be caught so easily? Tony opened his mouth, intending to ask just that question, when he glanced at the man’s face—and eyes—and caught his breath. Instead of a professional look, assessing the man’s strengths and weaknesses, Tony allowed himself to really check the dirtbag out.

The guy was model handsome, with deep-set blue eyes, shining with what Tony could almost imagine was amusement, a little smirk playing at his mouth. “What?” Tony snapped. The perp shouldn’t be finding this fun or amusing.

“That a normal reaction?” the man asked, his eyes tracking down Tony’s body to where his cock was pressing against his zipper. The man took a good long look, too, his eyes and smile both widening. Tony flushed, shoving embarrassment away and channeling anger instead. Without being fully aware of what he was doing, he pushed the man against the rough brick of a building, pinning him there with the force of his body.

The man didn’t say anything, just licked his lips, one fully sensual motion of tongue against very sexy mouth. His own body was straining away from the damp brick, his own—God, the guy was as hard as he was. And big; Tony couldn’t help but notice that.

“Is it the cuffs?” the guy continued, acting completely unaffected by his arousal, though he did press outward once, then twice. Tony had to bite back a groan. “Or just me.”

Tony didn’t know how the hell to answer, how this perp had gotten the upper hand. He knew he had to reestablish control, and went through all the techniques he favored, mentally discarding one after the other.

“Shut up,” he muttered, getting angry with his own reaction. What was it about this dirtbag that had him off his game? Despite many adrenaline rushes, he’d never gotten hard when chasing down a suspect before.

“Can’t,” the guy replied, shooting Tony an irreverent grin. The guy was handsome enough when smirking, but when he grinned, his face transformed and Tony had to catch his breath, his cock throbbing, his hips starting to hunch against the man’s body. He was incredible looking, and it was clear that he knew it.

“Easy, DiNozzo.”

Tony stiffened, leaning in closer, so close he could smell the coffee on the other man’s breath. The guy had pronounced his name wrong. “It’s DiNozzo,” he shot back, emphasizing the ‘I’ sound.

“DiNozzo,” the man replied, giving the I an “ah” sound. He shot Tony an innocent smile.

The man glanced around causally, peering over Tony’s shoulder before speaking. “Left boot.”

“Left boot?”

“ID is in there. Pull it out, look at it, but do it casually. Not screwing up this op.”

“Op?” Tony repeated. He could feel his expression growing confused. Though he knew it wasn’t the smartest idea, he bent down, resting one hand firmly against the other man’s rock hard abdomen, just above where his hard cock pressed against his pants. It took him a moment to get the man’s boot laces loosened enough to withdraw a small ID folder. Tony flipped it open, staring at the picture and shield, his stomach dropping.

“You’re a fed?” he asked quietly.

The guy—Gibbs, L.J., Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Special Agent Gibbs—nodded just once.

“I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize. Sign of weakness, DiNozzo.”

“Right,” Tony replied. The guy was quoting John Wayne. John Wayne! Tony was in trouble here. He reached around the guy’s back, and the man shook his head.

“Leave ‘em. Don’t break my cover. Besides…” He trailed off, giving Tony another irreverent grin, his eyes sliding down Tony’s body and focusing on his still-hard cock. “Think we both like the cuffs a lot. You got another pair of these at home?”

Tony blinked a few times, nodding.

The man nodded as Danny pulled up. As Tony walked him to the car, Gibbs turned his head, warm breath streaming over Tony’s cheek. “Good. This time I’ll be bad cop.”


End file.
